2,488 Miles
by iloveromance
Summary: An argument with his eldest son and his youngest son makes Martin realize just how much they mean to him; especially after he takes an unforeseen trip across the country at the encouragement of his wife. Written in memory of the wonderful John Mahoney, who will forever be known as Martin Crane.
1. Chapter 1

The cab sped along Interstate 93, but Martin still had no idea what he was doing there. By far it was the craziest thing he'd ever done. But at the advice and encouragement of his loving wife (how she'd put up with him for so long he'd never know), he'd done the thing he'd never thought he'd do; hopped a plane to Boston on a moment's notice.

 _"Go on, talk to him Marty." His wife said in that gentle but firm tone she often used._

 _However, he wasn't entirely convinced that going to Boston was a good idea. Leave it to Hester to be the one to try and convince him otherwise.  
_

 _"What in the hell am I supposed to say?"  
_

 _She smiled and kissed him. "Well you could start with_ I'm sorry _and go from there. It seemed to work with Niles."_

" _Yeah, but that's different."  
_

 _"How?"  
_

 _Well, Niles is-."  
_

 _"Our son. I know, but Frasier is our son as well. Don't think, Marty. Just go. Everything will be here when you get back."  
_

 _He pondered the situation for a moment. Could he really do it? Pack a bag and catch the next flight to Boston, only to arrive at his son's place unannounced? And even if he did, he was pretty sure that Frasier wouldn't want to see him.  
_

 _"Of course you can. And yes, he does."  
_

 _Hester's words surprised him. "H-how? I-I didn't-."  
_

 _"I know, Marty, but I also know you. And you know that Frasier loves you. So does Niles. You've made amends with one son, now it's time to do the same with the other."_

 _He sighed deeply, knowing that she wouldn't give up until he did it. "All right, I'll go and call the airlines."  
_

 _She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tightly. He was never one for sentiment, but at that moment, he didn't mind at all. "Are you sure you don't want me to just call him?"  
_

 _"And do what, listen to the phone ring? Marty you have to do this in person."  
_

 _"Come with me."  
_

 _"No, I can't. I'm needed here."  
_

 _"But I need you."  
_

 _"No you don't. You'll be just fine."  
_

 _"I love you, Hester."  
_

 _"I love you too. Now go and make that phone call and I'll pack your bag."  
_

The memory faded, replaced with the familiar sense of nervousness. He barely remembered getting off of the plane, having stared out the window for the entire flight

(which was too damn long), and suddenly he heard the cab driver talking to him.

"Here we are, sir."

Martin looked up at the huge brownstone. It certainly wasn't the type of home that he'd envisioned for his eldest son, but what did he know? It was no secret that he and Frasier had drifted apart in recent years. And Martin wondered if they'd' ever been close at all. He stared at the building a moment longer. "Are you all right, sir?"

Startled by the sound of the cab driver's voice, Martin looked up. "What? Oh yeah. Hang on a second."

He reached into his pocket, prepared to remove some money from his wallet, but suddenly he decided against it. "On second thought, take me somewhere else."

"Oh okay. Where to, mister?"

"That bar… Oh damn, what's it called again? Fras is always going on and on about it. Sam… something or other works there."

"Sam Malone?"

Martin's eyebrows rose. "Yeah, you know him?"

" _Know_ him? Of _course_ I know Sam! Cheers is my favorite hangout! All right sir, _Cheers_ it is!"


	2. Chapter 2

The closer they came to 84 Beacon Street, the more the nervousness filled Martin's chest. Why in the hell was he so nervous? It wasn't as though he'd never been to Boston before. Well, actually he hadn't, but that was beside the point. He still had no idea what he was doing there. Oh right, he was doing it for Hester. If that was the case, he had to make sure things went perfectly, even though he didn't really know what those things were.

"That will be thirty dollars." The cab driver announced when they pulled up in front of the white brick building with the sign hanging from a pole.

Martin's eyes widened. "THIRTY DOLLARS? FOR A DAMN CAB RIDE?"

"Yes, that's the fare from the airport, sir."

"That's highway robbery! And I mean that literally! I'm a detective you know!"

The cab driver sighed. "Just pay the fare would ya?"

Grumbling, Martin climbed out of the cab and opened his wallet, feeling as though he was giving away his life's savings when he handed the driver thirty dollars cash. He grabbed his overnight bag and slung it over his shoulder. He'd no sooner slammed the door of the cab shut when it sped away.

"Well same to you, Mister!" He shouted. "And the Mariners are going to beat the Red Sox this year and go to the series! You mark my words!" For added effect, he shook his fist wildly in the air.

But no one heard him, for he was standing all alone in front of the bar called Cheers.

He had no idea how long he stood there on the sidewalk, watching the people and the cars pass him by, but when a gust of wind made him shiver, he knew that he had no chose but to go inside the bar. Even in the springtime, Boston was colder than Seattle. Go figure. He didn't know how Frasier could stand it. Every time it snowed in Seattle (which was rare) he complained about having to shovel it from the driveway. He chuckled at the memory and shook his head. Kids...

He knew right away that Boston was a place that he wouldn't be spending much time in anyway. Not if he could help it.

The wind gust came again and he pulled his jacket closer to his body. He should have checked the damn weather report. He was going to freeze to death before he even got to see Frasier.

Once more his conversation with his wife echoed through his mind.

 _"What in the hell am I supposed to say?"  
_

 _"You could start with I'm sorry."  
_

But the truth was that he needed to say a lot more than I'm sorry. To say all of the things he needed to say would take a lifetime.

When the wind blew even harder he headed down the stairs to the bar called Cheers;, his heart thundering in his chest.


End file.
